The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  I make a pattern across her back and upper arms that looks a little like the wings she was wearing with the Victorian fairy outfit, with trails of pins dropping down her back. When I’ve set the last pin, I run my hand through them to see her shiver and her skin goosebump and hear her little wail. It’s very muffled, so I move around to her front to check on her.

  She’s all the way down. Her head’s hanging forward and tipped slightly to the side. Her eyes are hooded, just a glimmer of hazel showing. I cup her chin in my hand and bring her face up. She blinks dreamily and smiles at me. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, cutie. Feeling floaty?”

  She nods into my palm. “Love my forever-daddy.”

  I lean in and kiss her forehead. Subspace always bring Emmy’s deepest feelings spilling out. She told me she loved me the first time in subspace. Not long ago, she told me she wants to give Olivia a brother or sister when I had her deep after a breath play scene. Now she’s telling me she feels we’re forever, which I’ve felt for a long time, but I haven’t wanted to project my feelings on Emily when she was so badly let down by her first “forever man.”

  “Love my forever-baby,” I whisper into her skin. “You’re my yesterday. You’re my today. You’re all my tomorrows. No matter what happens, I will always love you, Emmy.”

  She tips her face up for kisses and I give them to her, sinking deep into her mouth, caressing her throat with one hand and gripping her soft ass with the other. She wriggles in the bondage, inching closer so she can press her breasts and thighs against me, making needy noises in her throat.

  “Good girl,” I praise her when I let her up for air. “Ready to take the pain for daddy?”

  “Yes, Daddy. Please.”

  I give her a long moment of eye-contact to help cement the connection between us before I hurt her. She looks sleepy when I release her, but she’s not. She’s just dropping through what she’s described to me as the “white clouds of subspace.”

  I smile to myself at her cute description as I move behind her and pick up a crop. I check the tongue to make sure there are no cuts in the leather or sharp edges that could catch Emily’s soft skin. The leather’s smooth, recently cleaned and polished from the smell of leather oil. Impressed by Martyn’s attention to every detail, I flex the crop in my hands and take position behind my baby girl.

  A sharp crack and cry next to me pulls my attention away from Emily’s plastic-pin decorated back for a moment. Niall nods at me as he plies a devil’s tongue across Shaan’s ass again. I return his nod and wish him luck in getting the answers he needs out of his sub.

  Then I flick the crop at the lowest clothespin on Emily’s back and let her little wail and the red mark that rises on her pale skin fill my soul.

  There was a time, not so many years ago, that hearing my sub’s cries, seeing my marks flushing her skin as I work up the line of clothespins, filled me with self-loathing as well as a primal sense of satisfaction. What kind of man am I that giving my lover pain gives me such pleasure? Even if they want it, beg for it as Emily so often does, what kind of monster does that make me?

  The man who told me it didn’t make me a monster, who cracked open his own deep secrets to help me accept mine, is in the next room, playing with Harry because watching what Emily and I have is too painful. As topspace opens me to my own feelings, I can admit that Mac not wanting to play with us hurt more than a little. But on a rational level, I understand it. Before I found Emily, I watched scenes that left me aching in a bad way because I didn’t have anything close to the intimacy and connection the players had. Now Emily and I are those players. That thought fills me with gratitude towards the woman taking my crop with soft cries and washes away some of the pain of Mac’s rejection.

  When I finish snapping the last clothespin off her, Emily’s back is decorated with long trails of welts and dots of sweat. I set aside the crop, lean in, and lick a line up her spine, tasting the salt of her skin and the faint muskiness of the leather. Emily shivers and moans. I press up against her back, skin to skin, while I reach around and tap her mons with the flats of my fingers.

  “How does it feel, little love?”

  “Stingy and pinchy and shivery and hot in my tummy,” she responds.

  I’m feeling that heat, too, centered in my cock which is sandwiched against the small of her back and throbbing almost angrily. I rub her belly and feel the muscles bunch under my palm.

  “Are you riding those sensations, my good girl?”

  “Yes, Daddy. Roller coaster’s still going up and up.”

  “Good baby.” I rub my hand over her, tummy and thighs and tickling over the gusset of her panties while she wriggles and makes breathy little sounds of pleasure. “Daddy wants to fuck you for a few minutes. I won’t go too crazy and neither of us is going to come. Just focus on Daddy’s cock in you and enjoy the sensations.”

  “Please, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.” I untie my sweatpants and push them to my knees. She immediately sticks her ass out, and I guide her hips with my hands until she’s in a deep arch, hanging from the chains as she grasps them. To emphasize the difference between this and sex where I’m fucking her to a climax, I shift aside her panties but don’t take them off her and tickle her opening with my fingers until she’s shivering and squeaking. I have to bend my knees to line us up because Emily’s much shorter than I am and Martyn doesn’t have a safety step like I have in our playroom, but I make it work, guiding my cock into her and relishing the slick grasp of her body as I sink deep. I wrap my arms around her, palming one of her sweet, little tits, and rock us back and forth, using the bondage as pivot points.

  “Daddy, Daddy!”

  “Yes, my baby. Feel Daddy in you?”

  She nods and tips her head to the side so I can kiss my way up the long line of her neck.

  I rock in her, not really thrusting, just melding our bodies together while I touch her everywhere: her throat, her breasts, her tummy, her quivering pussy lips, her flexing thighs. Emmy and I both enjoy the hard drive towards orgasm so much that we do this rarely. I have to remember the pure pleasure of being inside my soul mate, our bodies bound together in the most intimate and primal way we can join. That means denying her more often, which Emily will not be a fan of, but I can feel from the hot clutch of her cunt and the little moans that keep rippling out of her how much she’s enjoying this.

  “My little love.” I nuzzle the words into her ear while I grind deep in her. “My angel baby. You’re Daddy’s perfect sheath. I want to leave my cock in here forever.”

  I feel the giggle start in her belly. “You’d need a detachable penis, Daddy.”

  I bury my face in her neck as I laugh. This is Emmy. No matter what we’re doing, she brings such light and laughter into my life.

  I fuck her for several more minutes while she hums the King Missile song. I join in on the last chorus and hear chuckles around us.

  I give her a last suck on the hickey I’ve been building below her ear, a last squeeze of her sweet tits, before I withdraw and straighten our clothes. There’s a griping pain in my belly and balls, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, that needy ache.

  I walk around in front of her and give her a kiss. Her face is sweaty, probably from a combination of taking the pain for me and holding position while I fucked her. I retrieve some wipes and a towel from a station Martyn has set up in an antique, roll-top desk tucked to the side of the room, clean her face off, and kiss the end of her nose.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Really good, Daddy. I’m all pulse-y.”

  I chuckle. “Pulse-y, huh?”

  “It’s not a nasty, I want to kill someone ache. It’s just really nice and pulse-y.”

  “I’m glad you don’t want to kill me, little love. That’s not the idea of this. If I flog your breasts for a bit, will that keep the nice, pulse-y feelings going or will that be too much?”

  “Not too much.”

  “That’s my little love. If it
gets to be too much, I want to hear yellow.”

  Emily nods readily. “Okay, Daddy.”

  I roll my shoulders as I go to find a flogger that will deliver more thud than sting.

  * * *

  An hour later, I have Emmy wrapped in a sheet, since the dungeon’s too warm for a blanket, tucked in my lap as I sit in a bean bag chair facing Niall, who is similarly positioned with Shaan in his lap and Vashi kneeling at his side. It’s taken Niall a long whipping, and a shorter face-fucking, and some aftercare, since Niall agrees with me that questioning a sub while they’re actually in subspace is unethical, but Niall’s finally getting answers out of Shaan. Although I’m monitoring, I’ve been keeping eye contact with Emily through most of the questioning, since I don’t want Shaan to feel that I’m intruding on this moment of deep vulnerability with his Dom.

  I stroke Emily’s cheek and see what I’m sure is my concern mirrored in her eyes. “It’s okay, little love.”

  “This is a big deal,” she mouths almost silently.

  I nod. The concerns Shaan’s airing, about giving up a lucrative hospital staff position to move East for half of the year and being even more dependent on Niall’s variable income, to say nothing about feeling that Niall and Vashi have made the decision without him, are a big deal. They’re also very personal between Niall’s trio and I’m surprised he didn’t take Shaan upstairs, but Niall nodded to the bean bags when I took Emmy down from the chains, so I’m assuming he wants us here and listening.

  When Shaan finishes, Niall tucks the other man’s face into his neck and holds him tightly, whispering fiercely into his ear. “Mo bhuachaill grámhar, I’ve heard every word yeh’ve said. We’ll talk more about what to do, but I always hear yeh.”

  Shaan’s breath hitches. Vashi shifts out of her kneeling position to wrap herself around Shaan’s back while Niall rocks him. I haven’t seen their threesome function as quite such a unit before. I usually see Niall dominating each of them, often separately. But Niall’s said several times during our video calls that Shaan is the beating heart of their trio and I’m seeing it now.

  “Yeh ready t’go upstairs?” Niall asks Shaan.

  Shaan nods and slides off the beanbag. Vashi immediately tucks herself into his chest and Shaan puts his arms around her. Niall climbs out of the deep beanbag with more difficulty, and I remember that although he’s extremely strong, he broke his back seven years ago. He probably still has lingering pain and flexibility issues, just as I do from my more recent injury. Although Shaan and Vashi can see his struggle, neither offers to help him and I wonder if that’s because of the strain between the three of them or because Niall dislikes being reminded of his physical limitations. I feel him if it’s the latter; the constant reminders grate on me.

  Once Niall gets to his feet, he puts his arms around his subs and nods at me. “See yeh at breakfast. Same time?”

  “Eight-thirty. See you then.”

  Emily waves at them as they leave and Vashi waves back, although her eyes are still wet.

  “I didn’t know they were considering moving East, Daddy,” Emily whispers to me.

  “Niall just told me last night. He’s started a construction company in New York and is looking at a renovation project in Flatbush that would break ground after Thanksgiving. They haven’t found a place to live yet.”

  “I can help them look.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Emmy. I’m sure Niall would appreciate it. Let’s see where they end up tomorrow morning before we bring it up, though.”

  “Do you think their plans could change?”

  Probably not. Niall needs to address Shaan’s concerns now they’re out in the open, but I don’t think Niall will be swayed from his plans. But I don’t want to overpromise and risk my little girl’s disappointment. “I think we should wait and see. And if things don’t work out, I think we should plan a big trip to California to see them when it’s a little easier to travel with Olivia. Maybe March or April?”

  Emily nods before laying her head on my shoulder. “I’d like to take her to the Pacific. Do you know that babies can start swimming from two months old? I thought I might take Olivia to baby swim classes once she’s old enough. That’s still a babysitter thing to do, isn’t it?”

  “It is and I’d love it if you took Olivia to baby swim classes. Don’t worry too much about what is and isn’t a babysitter thing to do. Just focus on the things you want to do with her.”

  That wins me a smile, although it’s a tired smile.

  “C’mon, sweetheart. I think it’s time for us to say goodnight, too.”

  Emily glances around the room. There are still a lot of folks playing and several hours to go before midnight, but I don’t feel any need to play host. This is our weekend and I’m ready to cuddle up with my baby doll and shut out everyone else.

  When Emily looks up and meets my eyes, the pinch of worry around hers fades. “Okay, Daddy.”

  I smile, happy I can take worries large and small away from her.

  On the way up to our room, I stop to let Martyn know we’re going bed and ask him to knock if there are any problems he needs help with. I also check in with Harry and Mac, who have been joined by Daisy and Sean. They’re doing what looks like extremely complicated suspension with Hunter, Moon, Piper, and Justine. Fleur, who has more experience than many Doms, is monitoring and I stop to repeat what I told DirtyGurl before she slammed the door on me.

  Fleur grins and nods. “She’d probably rather have me put in a crown than wake you, but if she’s in trouble, I will.”

  “Thank you. I think we’re getting together for breakfast around eight-thirty if you’re up.”

  “See you then, sir. Thanks again for inviting me. Today’s been a lot of fun.”

  I pat her on the shoulder, wave to the people still doing scenes, including Mac who is helping Daisy turn a giggling Piper upside-down in the rigging and looking substantially happier than he did earlier, and lead Emily upstairs.

  Since it’s still early, I stretch out our bedtime ritual, bathing Emmy leisurely in the huge tub, rubbing lotion into her damp skin and cream into the marks I’ve left with my crop and flogger, brushing her hair for her, putting her in the adorable, shorty, bunny onesie we’ve gotten her for summer, and reading her not one, not two, but three bedtime stories. When I finish, I tuck her against my side and stroke the arm she stretches across my chest. Her breathing deepens towards sleep almost immediately. I lie in the darkness, listening to her soft noises, looking up at the gauzy canopy above the bed, wondering if I’ll hear or see Molly’s ghost if I wait up. Since I don’t actually believe in ghosts, despite what happened in the maze today, that thought makes me grin.

  My grin widens as I turn over today in my head. Fleur’s right, it was a lot of fun. The scene, particularly after we got down into the basement, didn’t quite go as I’d planned. Because Emily’s fantasy is to be raped by the big, bad wolf, I’d planned a much more forceful scene. But Mac’s loneliness changed the tone and after that I just wanted to be intimate and cuddly with Emmy. Well, as cuddly as clothespins and a flogging can be. It was a very cuddly scene for us. Hearing Emily call me her forever-daddy was better than anything I could have imagined coming out of the scene, so I’m more than happy with the way it went.

  I hope Niall is happy with the way his scene with Shaan went. I’m not sure what he was expecting to hear. He didn’t look particularly surprised when Shaan was talking, but Niall has an enviable Dom-face. I don’t know what was going on behind it, other than his deep love for his sub and his distress that Shaan was putting distance between them.

  I listen, not for Molly, but for any sounds from the room across the hall. Either they’re being quiet, or the inn has good soundproofing, because I don’t hear anything. Wishing my friends well, I close my eyes and let myself drift.

  Chapter Five

  Emily

  I love how heavy Daddy is, even when I wake with him spooning me and his arm and leg across me like oak
logs. There’s a smaller branch rubbing up between my bare butt cheeks—Daddy must have opened the flap on my onesie in the night—and I nestle back against it, remembering last night scene’s and how good it felt for Daddy to fuck me without either of us coming. Somehow, Daddy made it about intimacy instead of the race toward release, and I felt bonded to Daddy at an almost mystical level. I still hate orgasm denial, but I’ll agree to it a lot more readily in the future—and maybe, maybe, maybe, I might even ask for it—if it creates this level of connection between us.

  Daddy wakes with one of his grumbly groans and presses his erection more firmly against me.

  “Good morning, little love.” He kisses the back of my head and I wriggle happily in his arms.

  “Morning, Daddy. Is it time to get up?”

  “Mmm, no, I think we can forego showers until later, which means we have time to play before breakfast. Did you like the fucking last night during the scene?”

  I waggle my butt against him. “Lots and lots.”

  “Let’s do some more of that, then. Best way to start the day.”

  I wholeheartedly agree, particularly after a long, slow fuck in the spooning position we’ve woken up in. Daddy strokes me and plays with my belly button in a way that makes ripples of pleasure spread up through my tummy. I didn’t think my belly button was an erogenous zone, but when he tugs on it, I feel it in my clit. Just enough to make everything feel wonderful but not enough to push me over the edge. Daddy’s close, too, and listening to his moans as he thrusts and grinds fills me with all the happy. Instead of pulling out when we both get too worked up, he holds himself still inside me so I don’t feel abandoned and eases us back down, kissing and cuddling me and talking about silly things like which stuffie I’m taking to the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party (super silly, because of course I’m taking them all). When he finally slides out of me, he’s nearly soft and I’m feeling those warm pulse-y sensations again, but I’m not hot and raging and ready to kill my Dom the way I’ve been sometimes after orgasm denial. I wouldn’t argue with Daddy if that’s the way he wanted to leave me, because that’s his right, but it would, and has, made me stabby-mad. I’m glad Daddy doesn’t want me to feel that way the day before my collaring and I smother him with all the love as he shaves and gets dressed and we go down to breakfast hand-in-hand, so he knows how much I appreciate him.